Pain Meds

I had my surgery five days ago, and I had post-op appointment today. Claire and the nurse changed the dressing and cleaned up the knee. I had to lie down. Just as I didn't want to see the images from the surgery, I couldn't watch as they took off the bandage. I didn't want to be a doctor because I don't like blood, pus or sick people. I am squeamish, and I don't like anything that will challenge my gag reflex, especially if it is on my own body. Looking at my post surgery knee falls into this category. Jack recommended I look at it so I could track changes over the upcoming weeks. I still declined.

Jack, of course, looked at my knee with curiosity. If god forbid this ever happens to one of my kids, he will have to take them into their appointments. Jack said my knee looked better than Lindsay Vaughn's after her surgery.

"Where did you see a picture of Lindsay Vaughn's knee?"

"On the internet." Of course. And he looked it up. Weird. I sat up and looked at my knee. It looked like a piece of raw chicken skin -- yellow and lumpy.

"That looks fabulous!" Claire said. "I have two patients today who have beautiful knees who took care of them as they were told."

My knee might look good, but it was sore. I had a hard time getting out of bed because it hurt when I walked. Yesterday, I took 5 mg of oxycodone because it hurt to walk. Then I couldn't walk because I was looped out by the pain meds. I was tired and groggy and I had nothing to say. I was dull in every sense of the word. My friend Laura came over for lunch and I just listened, which is fine, but it is strange not to have any words or ideas to share.  For the first few days, I wondered why anyone would take pain meds for recreational use since the sensation was so odd.

And then, I liked it. I should know better. I have one friend whose son died from an overdose of prescription pain meds, and I have another friend who had a major addiction. She has been in and out of rehab. Once, she couldn't remember when her son's field trip was. I told her it was two weeks ago. She was totally snowed and had vague recollections of her life.

I can see how people get addicted to this stuff. Pain is bad, but fear of pain might be worse. Before the surgery, Jack recommended taking the meds to stay ahead of the pain because once it starts, it is hard to make things feel normal again. Being groggy and tired might be a small price to pay for not feeling bad. It lifts the mood, too. Being sore and stiff and uncomfortable made me grouchy. Being foggy and pleasant is better than being a curmudgeon, I suppose.

Even though I like the pain meds, I am still afraid. The literature my doctor's office gave me said only 15% of people become addicted to pain meds, which is good, except how do I know which group I am in, the 15% who fall for the drug, or the 85% who don't. 

Today, the nurse called and I asked what I should do. Claire changed the range of motion on my brace and my leg now has full extension. As a result, it is sore from this change. The recommended half of a pill. It seemed to do the trick in easing the pain, and gave me some faith that I could wean off the stuff.

Until the soreness and stiffness comes back.